Double Take
by ZuzuPetalsInkBlot
Summary: AU: He should make her comfortable and get out of here before it's- what? Too late? It's too late for too late. Too late was when he asked her for coffee, when he agreed to come here. Too late was a hundred kisses ago...


Double Take

By Zuzu Petal

Michael knew him from somewhere, which is why she was following him. She had never been to the little seaport town of Portsmouth, New Hampshire before. It had been listed as one of the most beautiful places to see before you die, somewhere someone had said that at some point. She knew this face, how he stood out amongst the crowd even with his back to her.

The encounter had lasted milliseconds; he had brushed past her as she was entering a shop and he was exiting, the scent of him still lingered in her own personal sphere.

The blue scarf helped her pinpoint him when she made the split decision to follow him. She kept telling herself to turn back, that this was borderline stalking, this wasn't her, she didn't follow strange men through the streets of a strange town.

Other people did this. Unhinged, deranged people did this.

People in rom-coms had moments like this, moments of insanity were excusable in those movies; they got away with this sort of cliche in that world. But if they were portrayed in films, literature and music, there must be some truth to it.

Weren't all cliches built on a foundation of truth?

Michael followed him down Islington Street, the sidewalk was growing rough, the traffic a sea of a headlights as the sun began to set. The pink sky nearly blinding as it reflected off the glass windows of old victorians, office buildings and an eyesore of a hotel.

The town had its charm as a well as it's beauty. Michael had planned to drive to New Castle after reconnecting with Sylvia, a smaller town connected to the landmass of Portsmouth by bridge; she had read of it's winding roads, it's views and it's rich manor houses and cottages. It had sounded like the perfect haven for some peace and quiet after such a terrible year.

Seeing Sylvia again had been a godsend, a firm reminder of why she left Ash in the first place. But also another way of Michael attempting to imitate the old life she used to have.

But none of that seemed to matter now. She needed to know who this man was and why she knew him.

The road was beginning to go nowhere, there was a shopping plaza with a grocery store on the right side of the street. The man was approaching a car, removing car keys from his jacket.

Michael needed to stop him before he got away.

What would a woman in a rom-com do? Sylvia was the expert in rom-coms...

 _I could throw myself into traffic and_ maybe _he'll see me?_ Michael could picture Kate Hudson doing it now, all blonde hair and skinny limbs.

No. That was idiotic and ridiculous.

 _Endanger your life just to meet a stranger, pathetic,_ she thought bitterly. She was going to walk past him, she decided, cut down a side street, get back to her rental car and go to her air bed and breakfast in New Castle and forget she ever saw him.

That was her plan. Until a car sped up behind her, trying to get around the traffic, heading right for the man she had been following.

"Hey!" She reached out on impulse, taking hold of his arm and pulling him to the back end of the car, shielding him from danger. The car that nearly killed him honked their horn.

"Fuck you too, asshole!" The man shouted, flipping the driver off accordingly.

Michael released him, but she felt a tingle even through her leather winter gloves.

"Are you ok?" He asked, turning his attention to her, she now saw his face. He was older than she thought at first, his eyes penetrating her, broad and fit.

"I... I'm fine." She answered, but the adrenaline rush was beginning to take hold of her. She took a few deep breaths; she could've died. He could've died.

"Hey, hey you're ok." He said gently, taking hold of her elbow, leading her to the sidewalk where he sat themselves down. She felt his hand rub her shoulder, comfortingly.

"Wow." Was all Michael could utter. He chuckled next to her.

"Nothing like a little near death experience to remind you to live, huh?"

Finally looking at him she realized if she hadn't been following him he would be dead on the pavement right now. Michael had never believed in fate until her own personal disbelief in it was tested this very night.

"I'm Michael Burnham." She said extending her hand, he took it.

"Gabriel Lorca." He replied, he placed his other hand on top of hers. "Now why don't you tell me why you were following me."

Shit. She downcast her eyes but didn't attempt to remove her hand, why didn't she? She found it curious because it went against her own internal biology; she didn't like to be touched generally, public displays of affection or emotion were not her MO.

Michael swallowed.

"I... I thought you were someone I knew." She answered, a half truth and he wasn't buying it.

"In circumstances such as that one usually makes their presence known. Want to try again?"

Michael felt the tremor of humor in his voice. He was interrogating her but it didn't feel like it, it felt like talking to an old friend.

"I don't have an excuse." She relented, he released her hand and rested his elbows on his knees.

"Well, you could just say you thought I was terribly handsome." He teased and she blushed, downcast eyes were repeated, then she shivered in the cold New England air. He sensed this as well as her apprehension to say more.

"Come on, I was going to this little coffee shop but the meter's run out." He said, rising and taking her hand again, helping her to her feet.

"Wait. You... I was following you and want to get coffee?" She asked, confusedly.

"If you wanted me dead you would've let me get hit by that car instead wasting a bullet from that Glock you have in your purse."

Michael froze at the trunk of the car, staring at him. How did he know? Michael's adoptive father had given her a gun after college when she started working in the city, after high school it had been a knife, during high school it had been mace. Now she carried all three.

As well as plenty of knowledge in self defense.

Her knife at her hip, her gun in her purse specially designed and made for carrying a gun, her mace was on her keychain.

"How did-"

"Sorry. Occupational hazard." He said, coming around to the side of the car and opening the door for her.

Occupational... what?

 _Michael, you're not going to get into that car,_ she heard Sarek's voice say, sternly and stoically.

"Shall we?" He said with a friendly smile.

Michael did in fact get into the car. It was cold and smelt of new car, men's cologne and stale cigarette smoke. She was already absorbing information about him.

He saw or deduced she had a gun, most likely he had seen the gun. He smoked but he didn't want people- or someone- to know he smoked. He could afford to drive a Tesla.

So, in the five seconds it took him to move around to the other side of the car and join her, she had learned he was most likely ex military of some kind, probably former CIA. A "spook", as Amanda would've called him.

"First time in Portsmouth?" He asked, driving slowly through the crowded streets.

"That obvious?" She asked, attempting to hide the shakiness in her voice.

"You don't sound like you're from around here." He pointed out.

"Neither do you."

Another laugh, warm and amiable.

"Visiting a friend." He divulged, but not anymore. "You?"

"The same." Another half truth. Sylvia did go to school around here but most people would've hit up Boston, not the quaint rustic streets of Portsmouth, New Hampshire.

"Stayin' locally?" He inquired, the click of his turn signal brought her eyes to look at him again.

"New Castle." She answered, but she didn't know why she was telling him anything.

She was ignoring the basic survival upbringing any child is given by every parent sane enough to want their child to protect themselves.

 _Don't talk to strangers_

 _Don't get into cars with strangers_

 _Don't tell strangers where you live_

The list went on. But it was integral to every parent and child. And yet she was ignoring it all now.

"The place is called _Breaking New Grounds_ ," he told her, pulling into the parking structure, accepting the ticket. "Not a far walk. Unless of course you think I have nefarious reasons for asking you."

They parked.

"Do you?" She asked him, he looked her dead in the eye.

"Honey, you're the one with the gun." He exited the car and waited for her.

Michael couldn't help the smile the tickled the corner of her mouth. Getting out she wrapped her coat more securely around herself and followed him.

She suddenly felt like she had been dropped into someone else's life. Like she was on a first date.

The coffee shop was crowded despite the hour; hipsters, artists and musicians all seemed to swarm into the space. The bakery smelled fresh, the pastries and coffee inviting.

He bought her a slice of blueberry pound cake. They both took their coffee black.

The man, she now knew as Gabriel Lorca, found them a table in the back away from the front door that was continuously opening and closing, bringing with it more hipsters and a cold breeze.

"Nice place." She commented, blowing the steam from her coffee.

"Yeah. I come here when I'm in town." He replied, watching her and ignoring his coffee. "I might be the oldest person in here."

Another twitch at her mouth, she didn't know why she was trying to hide her smile from him. Or maybe it was from everyone else. She had grown morbidly attached to her misery, perhaps the unfamiliar waters of a kind stranger were too much for her brain to process.

"So, Michael Burnham, what do you do?"

"I'm a anthropologist, professor part time. Or... was."

"Was?" He seemed intrigued.

"I'm on a break."

"Visiting a friend." He clarified and she nodded.

"What about you?" She hoped he wouldn't deflect but she had a very good feeling he was going to.

"This and that." He didn't disappoint and at the same time he did.

"Ah. This and That is very in demand." She replied sarcastically, which forced a broader smile from him, one that had a dizzying effect on her.

"I like to think it makes me mysterious." He answered, flirting with her, baiting her. Why did she want to take the bait?

 _You know why. How long has it been? You're both in town, "visiting friends"... a recipe for disaster or exactly what you've been looking for,_ she reminded herself.

"I find it... irritating." She answered honestly. He leaned forward, elbows on the table.

"I get the impression you're the type of woman who values honesty. Am I right?"

 _Right on the money,_ she thought.

Honesty. Yes, she valued it, as all humans should. She treated it well, like an old friend. But there were others who would abuse it, use it against her. People like handsome ex boyfriends.

"Yes." She said.

"Then, Michael Burnham, I'll tell you honestly: I'm here on a job, I can't tell you what it is or what it's about, I am visiting a friend because they also happen to live here. Two birds, one heavy stone. I know you have a gun because your purse was too heavy for its style, the butt of it was peeking at me too," he paused and she realized her heart was pounding. "You've also got a flip knife on your left hip, mace on your keychain and daggers in your eyes."

Gabriel slowly reached out and took her left hand, turning it over,

"Flakey skin on your ring finger from prying off an engagement ring. You were angry, had it been mutual you would have removed it with soap and water but you were hurt, badly. You're also a size eight and a half shoe and I'm guessing _J_ by Jennifer Aniston."

Michael was almost left breathless. She licked her lips and took a pensive sip of her coffee, his hand still holding hers.

"How did you know it was a Glock?" She asks him slowly.

"Lucky guess."

Gabriel finally drank from his large round mug.

"What kind of job?" She couldn't help but ask, it took him a moment to catch up to her.

"I told you I couldn't say." He reminded her, she shrugged.

"I was hoping you would slip up."

Michael felt his thumb caress the inside of her wrist, a tingle, a chill.

"Not likely." He assured her. "Want to talk about it?" He looked down at her empty ring finger then back at her.

"You're a stranger." She said incredulously.

"So are you. You think I invite any heavily armed woman into my car?"

Michael finally let out a laugh, meaning it for the first time in months. She wasn't faking it. There was no point in faking it with him, he had no preconceived notions of her. Only what he could see and observe, what he could touch and comfort.

"He lied, a lot. Too much in the end." Was all she said.

Gabriel offered an apology, she shook her head.

"Why did you start following me?" He asked, changing the subject and gears because he didn't like seeing her sad, he didn't want to press on an open wound.

"I thought I knew you. It's prosperous, I know." She said, feeling like a fool.

"I wouldn't say that, I'm a firm believer in fate. Had you not been following me I could be in a terrible state right now." He said.

Michael smiled and nodded, she had had the same exact thought. He could've died. He could've been paralyzed, bled out on the street waiting for help to arrive, run over a second time by another idiot driver.

"You know when you're being followed," she said, her voice low but audible over the noisy hipsters and their acoustic guitars and ukuleles. "So whatever you do is... precarious."

Gabriel's fingers had ventured further up her wrist, the tips of said fingers almost under the cuff of her coat.

"And?" He encouraged.

"And... you smoke but don't want someone to know. Or it's vanity. You like the pull of cigarettes but not the smell they leave behind. _English Leather_ , it's a classic. You drive an expensive car, so whatever you do you're paid well. I'm guessing a hired gun of some kind. You like the mystery that comes along with it. Unmarried, maybe divorced, hurt like hell which is why you understand my current situation. You don't carry a gun but you know how to use one."

Gabriel chewed his bottom lip for a few moments.

"Anything else?" He asked, he almost sounded hopeful.

"You're not used to hitting on younger women but you're good at flirting."

That last comment made the blush on his neck rise. He cleared his throat and released her hand.

"Do you have anywhere to be?" He asked her, meeting her eyes again. His coffee was practically untouched, the coffee shop was beginning to thin out. Michael swallowed.

 _Is this what you want? Dark, mysterious, dangerous... those eyes,_ she thought, her lust rising into her heart and overpowering the thoughts in her head.

 _I don't have sex with strangers,_ she reminded herself.

"Do you?" She asked him.

"Already been and done what I need to do."

Michael prolonged the agony with a little more small talk; the weather, the town, her work, his foot tapping under the table; she knew he was aching for a cigarette. She kept him waiting. For the nicotine, for the thrill of the chase now that their roles had been reversed somewhat, for her.

"Closing time." She said, a young man with a baseball cap was sweeping up after the incentive and messy hipsters.

"Yeah. Give you a ride?" He offered.

He parked behind her car and walked her to it.

"Can I have your phone?" She asked, he hesitated.

"Why?"

"Because I want to see you later and you'll need my number if you want to find me." She answered truthfully.

It didn't feel like herself answering though, but she felt confident nonetheless. She felt wanted, not needed. She felt desired, not like a broken beam on a condemned house. She felt entirely the opposite of how Ash had made her feel.

Gabriel handed her his phone after using his thumb to unlock it, she tapped in her number. Michael waited for him to do the same. But he didn't, taking back control of the situation. She felt mildly irked, but still confident he would call.

"Goodnight, Michael." He said, finally using only her first name. He took her arm, leaned forward and kissed her cheek, lingering for a moment, his warm breath forcing the cold air from her body.

"Goodnight." She replied as he pulled away.

Michael's air bed and breakfast was a one level cottage, overlooking the water, tucked away by trees with a dock at the backyard. The master bedroom was luxurious and the house smelled of clean linen and fresh air. She got quite the deal for it being off season.

Michael showered and made herself a late snack of granola and strawberries, avoiding her phone at all costs. Perhaps she had been too confident? She would be disappointed if she didn't hear from him and maybe even a little relieved. She didn't do things like this after all.

Save strange men she had been following for god only knows what reason, get into their car, have coffee and flirt with them and invite them to her temporary living space for- what? A night of unforgettable sex? It was too much like something someone in a movie would do.

Michael wasn't that type of heroin. She didn't know at all where her story was going. She felt like a book someone had picked up with no interest of really reading it, flipping from one page to the other, back and forth mindlessly reading certain words or maybe a paragraph until finally letting it slip through their fingers.

The world was a funny place.

And it still nagged at her, how did she know Gabriel Lorca's face?

It was eleven thirty, she was restless. And so was he apparently. Her phone rang, an unknown number. She answered it.

"New Castle isn't that big, I happen to be in the area." He said, she smiled against the phone.

"What a coincidence." She went along, going to the front door, leaning against it.

"Ain't it just?"

Michael gave him the address. Ten minutes later she saw headlights. Suddenly her confidence was replaced by anxiety, her nerves a horrible reminder that she didn't do things like this. That this wasn't her. This was the life she had crashed into when she decided to follow him and she kept following him.

With Gabriel came the trickle of rain against the windows, with his knock the storm seemed to increase. She had no choice but to let him in now. She wanted to, desired to, but was afraid.

Michael opened the door, his coat already growing wet.

"Borrow a cup of suga?" He asked, smiling, his eyes moving up and down her body. Michael noted the way he seemed to easily mince words. One sentence from him could mean a thousand different things.

"Come in." She said, gesturing with her hand.

"Nice place." He breathed, looking around.

"It's not mine." She said, walking to the kitchen, she felt him following her.

"No. Because you're just visiting." The words carried their own hefty double meaning.

 _It's all anonymous,_ she thinks as the lust she had bridled and checked earlier began to pace back and forth.

"Can I-" Michael was offering him something to drink when she felt his hands on her hips, she froze as he simply pulled her back to his front. Instinct told her it wasn't threatening, it was seductive. She tried to relax and mold herself to him.

"You're really sexy, ya know that?" He whispered in her ear, his lips moving against her skin. Michael blushed and chewed the inside of her cheek, slowly shaking her head.

"I've been called some endearments before, but not sexy." She admitted, which was true. Ash had called her beautiful, a goddess even, cute in the morning when she was still tired. But she had never really felt sexy with him. Not like how she felt when this strange man gripped her hips in his large rough hands, giving in and yet denying himself at the same time.

"Trust me, you're sexy." Gabriel assured her, he let out a long breath and she shivered as it wafted over her flesh, mapping a path of gooseflesh.

"You're nervous." He pointed out, his thumb making a circle on her hip. She nodded, glad she couldn't see his face.

"It's been a while and... I've only been with one other person." She admits, not out of shame or regret. She and Ash had been young when they met in college. She had had no boyfriends in high school, she hadn't cared then. But something about Ash had been different and at the time it had been exciting and exhilarating, however, all she felt now was resentment.

"We don't have to do anything, ya know." Gabriel said gently, his hands taking hers in his own, laying them on her stomach.

"I want to." She breathes out; shyly, warmly...

Gabriel turns her in his arms and she knows she _knows_ his face. But from where and when and why? Her hands come to rest on his broad chest and she doesn't know where to look. He's inside her personal hemisphere, floating in her orbit. But she wants him on the plains of her soil and earth.

Michael knows he's leaning in to kiss her when the wind blows open a window, knocking an ornamental candlestick off the windowsill. He doesn't hesitate and goes to it, the wispy sky blue curtains attacking him before he gets them under his control.

She watches him, hand over her heart at being so startled by it, as he tames the curtains before pulling the window shut and latching it.

"Well, can't get much worse." No sooner had the words left his mouth did the room suddenly darken. "I stand corrected." He mutters, finding his way to her in the dark. She feels his hands on her elbows.

"Don't suppose you know where the fuse box is?"

The basement was small and cramped, she held her phone out as a flashlight for him. He had removed his coat and scarf and rolled up the sleeves of his black button down. He flipped a few breakers. Nothing happened.

"And the generator isn't coming on," he says to himself. "I hope you're not afraid of the dark."

Michael frowned, she wasn't in fact. It made her dizzy and she preferred light if there were an option but it seemed they were limited.

"I'll check the generator next." He decided, she followed him up the stairs, he began putting his coat back on.

"You shouldn't go out there." She told him worriedly, she turned off the flashlight on her phone, the candles providing a warm yellow glow and enough light for them to see.

"I'll be fine. Nothing I can't handle." He said confidently, going to the front door. Michael grasps his hand.

"Please be careful." She says, he smiled and surprised her by kissing her forehead, it was almost better than the lips. More tender, endearing. Sweet, even.

"Always am." He said, winking and leaving her alone in the cottage.

Michael had grown up in the small town of Vulcan out west, she had never seen a New England cottage before, she had never seen an ocean until she went to college in Michigan. She had been a desert lady, surrounded by dunes and barren trees.

Gabriel Lorca seemed well traveled, well spoken but with a simple humor. He was confident, but much of it was faked, she assumed, with her. She had hit the nail on the head when she had said that he wasn't used to flirting with women her age. His reaction without admittance had proved that.

Michael felt her stomach flutter that she could make a man like him nervous. He was obviously experienced when it came to women, to seduction. But she made him blush, she intimidated him without her words. She felt powerful and for the first time, sexy.

Distracted, the sound of the front door being swung open by the window made her jump. She turned to see him, wet and panting. He kicked his muddy shoes off at the door and pushed the door closed; the wooden door fighting him as the wind attacked. She helped him, even a grown man couldn't entirely fight the power of nature alone.

Once it was closed and bolted he looked down at her smaller frame dwarfed by his larger one. He was still breathing hard, his eyes smouldering with life. His shoulders slumped, his coat soaked through and heavy.

"Should have light back soon." He says quietly, staring at her lips and then her eyes.

"Thank you." She reaches out and pushes his coat off, letting it fall wetly to the floor.

"That's twice tonight I could've died," he said, his hand coming to rest on her neck. "Makes one think of missed opportunities. Or things things they regret or know they would if they didn't take a chance."

Michael's long fingers unbuttoned the first few buttons at his black shirt, also wet, she licks her dry lips, her breathing also intensified.

"Like what-" she never got to finish because he kissed her hard on the mouth. She had been hoping for it, aching for it, but she was still surprised when it happened. She had prolonged it too much, the dam was breaking.

Gabriel's mouth was demanding and yet gentle. Giving her firm encouragement but leading the way and never straying. His powerful hands pulled her body to his own, her clothes dampening against his. He moaned lightly as she opened her mouth to him, cupping her jaw and backing her into a wall.

Michael felt the wall with her palms, unable to let herself touch him yet. Just allowing him the first battle, the first taste of her. She realized again he was a stranger and he had his hands close to her throat, but it didn't frighten her. He wouldn't have gone through the trouble of bringing light back into the cottage if he was planning on killing her. And she wasn't afraid to be alone with him.

The only thing that scared Michael was how she still didn't know how she knew him.

Michael finally returned her fingers to his shirt, finishing what she started. He pulled away from her lips, watching her with lustful eyes as her hands shook with desire.

Gabriel realized she wasn't putting on some half virginal front for him for the sake of his manhood; she really was inexperienced with this sort of thing. Not sex, she had obviously indulged in the act before. But there was something infinitely innocent about her too.

He knew she had no understanding of a one night stand. Perhaps she knew the theory and the practice but little else beyond that. The idea of how he could touch her in ways no one else had caused him to harden further.

She had been hurt, probably cheated on. He wanted to make her feel better. To let her know it wasn't her fault, whatever had happened, it wasn't her fault.

With his shirt unbuttoned she parted the folds of it and ran her hands up his torso. He shuddered at the feeling of her soft, small hands touching him finally. She had been dragging out their encounter, prolonging it until it was almost unbearable.

Gabriel knew why she had been following him, he knew why she remembered his face but couldn't place where or when. He knew he should stop this and tell her now. Christ, if Sarek found out- or better _when_ \- Gabriel knew he would be crucified for this transgression.

He had been sent to protect her, not seduce her.

Sarek hadn't told him what had caused her sudden runaway like behavior, whatever had forced her to flee from her home and her job had been sudden and traumatic. All he knew was that her adoptive father wanted her safe. Who better than his old bodyguard?

Michael wrapped her arms around his neck, leaning up to kiss him again and he was lost. God, she was mewling so sweetly against his mouth and under the gentle but firm pressure of his hands roaming over her body.

Pressing her more firmly into the wall behind her, he angled her hips to canter against his own, a leg sliding between hers and the sensations elevated her to new and stronger heights.

"Are you sure?" He asked, sighing hard as her lips met his collarbone and her hands went to his belt.

"Yes."

Gabriel took Michael into his arms, kissing her jaw, her neck and her shoulders. She seemed impatient, she had had enough of waiting. Taking his hand she lead somewhere that he assumed was the bedroom. The cottage was still dim, the generator had come on at some point.

Inside the well decorated and softly lit master bedroom, she closed the door. He thought it curious since they were the only two people here. Perhaps it was an old habit from her previous relationship.

Michael hesitated for a moment before pulling off her t-shirt, a grey sports bra covered her chest. Coming to him she quickly divested him of the shirt that still hung onto to him, damp.

"Hey, hey, slow down." He told her gently, bringing her to the bed, sitting on it with her beside him.

"Why should I? Isn't this what we both want?" She asked him, her tone clipped. He sighed and rubbed her arms.

"I don't know how much experience you have with this sort of thing, Michael, but part of the point is to enjoy it." He informed her, leaning across her still sitting form, both hands on either side of her hips. He kissed just below her ear and she whimpered.

"I know how to enjoy it." She told him smartly. He smirked against her skin. He imagined her ex being some cocky young man, sure of himself that he knew everything he needed to know about women and sex, but still being an over confident boy with no clue.

Gabriel knew what it was like to be that age and he knew how quickly his ego had deflated when he realized he knew nothing about women; he had had to learn how to please a woman, he was damn proud of it too.

"Do you?" He asked looking her in the eyes, his face hovering closely to hers. It sent a queer chill throughout her body, he made her feel sexy yet insecure. Powerful and weak. Wanton and afraid.

"Yes." She replied quietly.

"Yeah. Could he touch you right?" He asked her, his voice darkening but soft, his hand sliding up her clothed thigh. She tingled intensely. She felt like she was blooming under his touch.

"Did he set you on fire?" He continued his questioning as his hand continued it's quest. Further venturing to the apex of her thighs, leaning her backward until she was lying on her back. He scooted her back until her head rested on a pillow. He leaned on his side, parting her legs gently.

Michael shook her head at his question. He kissed her gently and sighed into his mouth as his hand dipped below her pajama pants and underwear. He felt a hot coiling in his stomach when he felt she was shaved underneath. It was something so erotic and yet innocent that overpowered and undid him.

Michael gripped his shoulder, wishing he would roll on top of her and just fuck her madly, the way Ash never did. The way she yearned to be. But he didn't. He circled her clitorous, getting her wetter than she thought she ever could be, until his slid the blunt tips of his fingers against her opening.

"Oh, please," she moaned, burying her face in his neck, breathing in his natural scent, the cigarette smoke and the _English Leather_. That smell... as familiar as his face.

"Shh," he whispered quietly, his heart pounding in his chest. "I want to take you slowly." He thrust a finger inside her, truly feeling how tight she was. She whimpered at the intrusion, it had been months since Ash. Even months before she finally ended their relationships she hadn't been able to bring herself to sleep with him.

Another finger and she breathed in and out more heavily. It was a sainted sound to him.

"Does that feel good?" He asked her, his forehead resting against her own, his free hand cradling her head. She nodded eagerly, her eyes imploring him to not stop. She clenched her eyes shut as the pleasure began to mount.

"No," he said darkly. "Open your eyes. Look at me when you cum."

Michael followed his order, but it was so personal. She stared at him as she came helplessly around his thick fingers as they fucked her into insanity and back again. Her cries choked and gasping, her throat going dry.

When he removed them she watched as he licked them clean, the act causing her to blush from her breast to her face, she couldn't watch but she couldn't look away. It was vulgar and obscene, Ash never would have done such a thing.

Michael watched as he got up from the bed, removing his trousers and then returning to her. He reached over to the night table and turned off the lamp, the light from the dock illuminating the room perfectly.

"You ok?" He asked, brushing his hand over her forehead and cheek. She nods, simply enraptured by him. "Can I take these off?" She feels his hand on her pajama pants.

"Yes."

Both pajama pants and underwear come sliding off and she watches as he moves between the junxure of her thighs, pressing his core tightly against her own. She gasps as she feels him, truly, feels him for the first time. Hot, hard and long against her quivering opening; bigger than Ash and for a moment Michael briefly wonders if this was a bad idea. But then he suddenly goes rigid and sighs into her neck.

"Shit." He mumbles.

"What?"

"I don't suppose you have a condom." He asks, hopeful but ready to be disappointed. Michael feels terrible foolish for not having thought of it herself.

"The people who own this place do." She says and he brings his face up, relieved, kissing her. "Wait here." She tells him, he lets her get up, watching her half nude form go to the bathroom.

Michael had obviously snooped around the place when she got there. The fridge was stocked with eggs, milk and coffee creamer. The freezer had vanilla ice cream and a few microwavable meals. She had been planning to stock the place with some of her own choice foods during her stay. But in the bathroom she had found, what could only be described as, considerate items.

Tampons, pads, razor blades, spare toothbrushes and... condoms. Apparently Mr. and Mrs. Duvall, who owned the cottage, liked to make the renter feel right at home, stocked with essential items the inhabitant might need.

In the brightly lit, sailor themed bathroom she held the square wrapped foil between her fingertips. This was it. She was about to have sex with someone; someone she didn't know, a strange man she had only known a few hours. A man fate had intervened and decided she did need to meet despite the odd sensation that she had seen him before.

Realizing she had maybe been gone too long she returned to him, taking her place beside him on the bed where he waited for her.

The process was slow and at times for Michael almost embarrassing. She had been naked in front of Ash before, plenty of times. But it felt different under the scrutiny of Gabriel's eyes. It was neither good or bad, it just simply was.

There was discomfort, it had been a long time and she was trying too hard to disconnect herself from Ash that Gabriel inevitably noticed. He was considerably more gifted in different ways than Ash had been.

Very gently, half inside of her, he cupped her cheek saying,

"If it's uncomfortable we can stop."

But Michael shook her head, determined.

"I'm fine." She answers quickly, taking deep breaths with each press of the remaining inches of him. He paused again, groaning.

"I can feel how tense you are." He points out, but she won't let him go.

"Please. The pain is momentary." She assured him, her pleading with him to not stop.

He pushes forward and again she winces in pain but it is as she said, momentary.

"What can I do?" He asks her, if she doesn't want him to stop he at least wants to make her more comfortable. He touches her, caresses her; her breasts are offered to him, he massages her clit to add pleasure to the pain. It helps but she still seems miles away.

"Just... keep going. Talk to me." She whispers, watching him as he watches her. "How does it feel for you?"

Gabriel would laugh if he had the strength to. How did it feel for him, she asks. Well, that was a loaded question. He couldn't really say, _your cunt feels like a tight, wet fist and I want to cum inside you while you scream my name_. No, she might ask him to stop if he said that. Dirty talk wasn't foreign or even hostile territory for him, but he wasn't sure what kind of _talk_ Michael needed or liked.

He couldn't picture her with some strapping young lad begging them to fuck her. That didn't seem like Michael. She wasn't some pornographic pin-up girl. She was sexy all on her own without all the stereotypes that went along with it.

"You feel soft," he begins, his lips lingering over her neck. "And wet. Christ... you're, you're beautiful, Michael."

She shivers as his words move over her and he feels her relax, enough that he's able to move entirely into her. He settles there, giving her time. There's no need to rush anything.

"How do you feel?" He asks her this time. She breathes deeply, her breasts rising against his own chest.

"I don't think I can say it." She answers, blushing so beautifully he pulls back to thrust a little, a gasp escaping her lips even at the tiniest movement.

"Tell me, please." He says, trying to boost her confidence because she has every reason to feel confident and beautiful and loved.

"I feel... full, and..."

"Yes?"

"Whole. Like you're touching places I didn't know were there."

Christ, if that wasn't enough to make him nearly cum he didn't know what was.

Michael had an idea of what she had been expecting when they did eventually have sex, this wasn't part of that fantasy but it was better than she imagined. He was taking his time, getting to know her body, asking her if she was alright and controlling himself even though she knew it had to be agonizing.

And yet she wanted him to lose control. She wanted him to take her roughly and gently and in all of the most primal ways a man could take a woman. She wanted to be his.

As if reading her mind he began to move, slowly at first, reaching that place deep inside of her she hadn't known was there.

"Is that good?" He asks, his lips near hers. She nods weakly as the pressure and stinging begin to fade with each passing thrust and a new found pleasure begins to rise.

Even a question that seemed so ordinary now turned into an obscene and salacious idiom.

Gabriel tilts her hips to meet his more directly and she can't help herself and sits up, her arms around his neck, her chest to his; half lying down half in his lap. The change of both position and sensation was sudden and shocking. He suddenly feels bigger and harder at this angle, powerful thrusts follow because he knows she can take it. She simply holds on and lets him.

All Michael can do, is hold on. She doesn't want this moment to end, how he feels and looks to her; how he makes her feel. Needed but not because he needs _her_ to prop him up. Wanted, but not because he wanted to possess her. Desired, but this didn't feel like an obligation.

Michael had never tasted passion before she realized, she had never experienced what true lust felt like. Not until she had thought she knew him, not until he brushed past her and something inside of her told her to follow him. She was selfishly glad she did.

Michael finds herself on her back again, he's closer than he was before. Chest to chest she can feel his heart against her own and she knows it's an illusion, some trick of the mind, but she swears their hearts beat in tandem.

"I'm... I'm _close_." She tells him.

He brings her there, to that blissful spasm, that coiling frenzy. The pot has boiled over, she feels an internal dam break and the river rushes over her, swallowing her whole until she has nothing left. Gabriel breaks apart in her arms, her hands gentle even as he shudders almost violently atop her.

She feels his panting breath in her neck, she feels warm and cool all at once. Sore and inflamed, tender and loved.

Michael doesn't know much of one night stands, but she has a feeling they're not all like this.

"You ok?" He asks her, running the tips of his fingers over her cheek.

"Better than ok." She tells him, and it's true and real.

Gabriel leaves her to shower, she can hear him humming, the door open. Something else that reminds her of a memory she isn't sure is real. His phone vibrates on the table, she goes to it, because she doesn't see the harm. Doesn't see what could be so damaging... until her father's name is staring back at her in little font.

The message is private but his name isn't. Michael tries to process the information but it's difficult because there's so little data.

" _Occupational hazard..."_ He had known about her gun.

" _First time in Portsmouth?"_

" _That obvious?"_ Looking back, he _knew_ she wasn't from around there.

" _Visiting a friend."_ He had said that was his reason for being here...

" _I'm here on a job, I can't tell you what it is or what it's about..."_

Michael didn't hear the water turn off, she simply walked into the bathroom as he was drying off, he was still humming; completely oblivious to her.

"What's this?" She asks holding his phone in her hand.

Turning, she knew the last thing he was expecting was this. Michael feels like she's holding a betrayal in her hand, this is Ash all over again. Lying, being used, another woman in her bed, fucking on their sheets... what the hell was going on?

Gabriel watches her carefully, he already planned his escape route if anything went wrong. If shit hit the fan he knew where to run and where to take her.

"Michael, give me my phone." He says calmly, extending his hand.

"Who the fuck are you?" She demands, now clutching his phone and using the same hand to point at him.

"Why is my father texting you!" She shouts when he doesn't answer fast enough. He remains calm.

"You're my job." He admits, shamefully and hating how the words taste, how sick it makes him sound.

This wasn't part of the plan. He was supposed to watch her, look after her while she did whatever she needed to do to heal. Ever since the terrorists bombed her parents home, killing them, Sarek had taken the utmost care to protect her.

It wasn't just the mace, knives, guns and self defense classes. It was Gabriel Lorca. In the moments she stared him down in the bathroom, the steam clearing giving way to a chill she finally remembered him.

Michael's father had been a vocal senator from New York State, speaking out against a neo-nazi group. He was going to war with them politically, no one ever really expected the group to take it literally. Their home was attacked, a bomb was set off in the garage underneath the master bedroom. What the nazi group didn't count on was Michael having a nightmare and getting into bed with her parents.

Sarek was staying in the guest house, an advisor to her father and family friend. He was the first on the scene, as well as a young Gabriel Lorca. Sarek's trusted friend and bodyguard. He had been younger, shaken by the bombing and almost made sick by the horror the two men discovered.

It was Gabriel who pulled Michael from the rubble, it was Sarek who performed CPR until help arrived while the younger man secured the area. It was too late for her parents but not too late for Michael.

She remembered seeing those eyes, afraid but determined when she came back and help arrived.

In the hospital he must have asked to see her, to make sure she was alright. She remembered the humming, he had been trying to comfort her. She had been eight at the time. But her memory of that night had always been a blur, vague and disjointed. Until now.

" _I... I_ was your _job_." She says lowly, her hand falling to her side. She places the phone on a stool and leaves the bathroom. She doesn't know what to feel except sick and tired.

Gabriel comes to her, on his knees in front of her.

"I swear- Michael please look at me." He begs, his voice cracking, his hands won't touch her.

"I can't." She says sadly. She's afraid if she looks at him she'll only see Ash begging her not to leave him because he can't do any of this alone, whatever "this" meant anyway.

"Michael, this wasn't part of the plan. I was only supposed to look out for you." He promises, he even swears on his life. But she's not sure she can even trust that.

"Why?" She asks, a tear falls from her cheek and onto her hand. He finally touches her, to brush it away. His hands are still warm from the shower. The same hands she let touch her.

"I don't know. But if you hadn't followed me... well, we've gone over that." He says softly.

Gabriel sighs and stands and proceeds to dress. He should leave, get out of here before hurting her further.

"Why didn't you tell me?" She asks, he can feel her eyes on his back and he hangs his head.

"Sarek didn't want me to. He said you'd only run again if you knew someone was watching you."

Michael scoffs, breathes back tears and smiles bitterly.

"And I thought he didn't know me. That's how you knew what kind of gun I carried, right?"

Gabriel turns back to her, half dressed and feeling like half a man.

"And the knife and... and the ma _ce_." Her voice cracks entirely on the last word, a sad exhale, a hand to hide her face. He touches her again, taking her hand away so he can really see her.

"I'm sorry." Gabriel says brokenly. He wasn't trying to hurt her or even have sex with her. He knew it was wrong the moment he called her and showed up at the cottage. But he played the dashing hero part well. But now his mask was gone, he was decloaked and unmasked. Entirely at her mercy. Her small feet were pressed together, her shoulders hung.

"I know you weren't trying to hurt me," Michael says unevenly, her voice trembling. "But I'm not even sure if what I'm feeling is hurt."

"What can I do?" He asks her hurriedly, he would do anything to keep her from pain and to stop her tears. He just doesn't know how. He's not good at this sort of thing, never has been. He's always believed one should always be capable of coping with grief on your own. You can't grow complacent or rely on others. They let you down in the end.

But right now he wished he had all the answers for her. Michael surprises him again,

"Lay with me."

She curls into his chest, he faces her, playing with the curls on her head. She's stopped crying at this point, but he can see her planning.

"Will you be here when I wake up?" She asks him tentatively. He swallows.

"If you want me to."

"I do."

X

When Gabriel wakes the room is still dark and the rain is still pouring proverbial buckets. He presses the home button on his phone, he never did read Sarek's message. It's only been two and a half hours since they fell asleep. He glances at Michael's sleeping form, she doesn't stir in the bright light of his phone.

He opens Sarek's message. There are others too that followed.

 _Status report._

 _Status report._

 _You are either dead or you have been made._

 _Emotion dictates that I should overreact by your silence however logic tells me there are a number of reasons why you have not responded. Do get in touch soon. Amanda is worried._

Gabriel types out a message, then erases it. He tries again.

 _Status report: She's fine. Spending time with an old friend, shopping, reclusive. Keeping a distance-_

Gabriel hesitates. In the years he'd known Sarek, protected him and been his friend, he had never lied to him. Was he about to start now? No. He wasn't a coward. He had already fucked himself by not telling Michael the truth right away. He erases "keeping a distance".

 _Status report: She's fine. Spending time with an old friend, shopping, reclusive. Made contact. Will explain in further detail at a better time._

Gabriel pressed send and fully expected the door to burst open then with Sarek standing there being as angry as the man could possibly be. There had been one rule in tailing Michael: DO NOT MAKE CONTACT. But he was tired of lying and avoiding the truth.

Looking back to Michael, her eyes were parted.

"What did you tell him?" Michael asks tiredly, rubbing her eyes and sitting up. Gabriel puts a hand on her stomach, covered by the blanket.

"The truth." He answers simply. Michael stops rubbing her eye though her hand doesn't move, she looks awkwardly contemplative.

"You told my adoptive father we slept together?" She asks.

Gabriel laughs and shakes his head.

"No. I told him we met." Michael doesn't answer. She sits up and sighs, then she seems to realize she's still naked. She never dressed after their fight- or whatever it was.

Whatever they were it was quickly metamorphosing into something she couldn't put into words, and that scared her.

With Ash things had been at least relatively simple. He had lied, cheated and she left him. But with Gabriel Lorca things were grey, unintelligible. He was a foreign language and she had no way of knowing how to communicate with him. A map she couldn't read. He was like this town and this state, foreign and unknown.

"Will you talk to me, tell me how you feel. Please." Gabriel said, breaking the silence.

"I don't know how." She admits, defeatedly. "You're a foreign concept."

"A what?" He asks, frowning, having been called many things in his life but that had never been one of them.

Michael pulls the covers up, tightening them, but his eyes never leave her face. She's tempted to turn on the light but the cover of darkness despite the dock's glow offers her some protection from his scrutiny. There's only so much judgement she can take in one year. Ash had done enough of that; projecting his own failures onto her, judging her for not doing enough, being there enough.

"I don't know how to do this," she said, dejectedly. "I don't know what you want from me."

Gabriel rose up to his knees, moving a few inches towards her.

"I want you to tell me how you _feel_." He said. "Don't tell me you don't know how you feel."

"I... I feel used."

"By me?" He asks, unhurt but hoping they were making progress in some way. He didn't know what he had stumbled into, but he felt an obligation not to leave her until he understood her. Until he helped her in some way.

Michael shrugs.

"No... and yes," she answers sadly. "I guess Ash was right. I don't know who I am. I'm nothing."

There it was. It came back to some asshole who made her feel like she was worthless, that she meant nothing. He felt his fists clench then relax. Gabriel didn't think, he simply took her shoulders in his hands and made her look at him.

"You're _not_ nothing, Michael," he told, passionately. "You're a successful, talented, intelligent human being. I don't know this Ash but he sounds like a fucking ass-hat."

Michael hiccupped and laughed, he smiled at her. It was fleeting but it was something.

She looked at him strangely then, her hands inching closer towards him. He felt the energy in the room shift.

"What?" He questioned when she stared at him with those dagger eyes of hers. Michael suddenly pounced on him, he wasn't expecting it and his instincts told him to fight her off, but moments later her mouth was on his.

"Michael-" he tries to speak but her mouth is insistent and impatient.

"Stop talking." She says, gripping the hair at the nape of his neck. Her voice sounded like a whip.

Gabriel Lorca was never was to come to heel for a woman, he was dominant and not submissive. But something in the way her voice became flinty and dangerous sparked something inside of him.

He would do anything for this woman.

It was wrong, fucked up, beyond inappropriate and if he were a father with a daughter he cared about and wanted protected he would sever the dick off of any man who would take advantage of her.

Michael's tongue invaded his mouth with a force he fought to combat. Christ, she had gone fucking feral on him.

"Michael-" he tries saying again, this time she bit his lip just hard enough for him to get pissed off. He gripped her hips, which were currently gyrating against his own and he was having a difficult time controlling his raging hard on.

"Stop for a second." He says roughly, keeping her still. She seemed to come back to herself a little.

"Don't tell me stop. Not now." She whispered, her face close to his, her breath spread over his face.

"It's not right." He tries telling her, even as her mouth began spreading wet open mouthed kisses over his neck.

"I know. Isn't that the point? Please, give me what I need." She begs, her body was on fire for him. Not for Ash, not for the balm Gabriel could be, but just for him. He was mysterious, dangerous, sexy. He was everything Ash wasn't. And she needed him.

Gabriel opened his mouth to speak but she put a finger over his lips.

"Don't ask me if I'm sure. I'm allowed this." She tells him, with conviction.

He didn't ask. He leaned back and she moved forward over him. He felt her everywhere, massaging her breasts and bringing her mouth back to his. He feels her wet against his cock, fuck it was like his brain had gone into overdrive.

Gabriel was tired of being a submissive though, he didn't get taken he took what he wanted. He didn't give a damn in that moment whose daughter she was. Taking her by surprise wasn't easy, he distracted her by going weightless for a moment, letting her think he was going to let her do whatever she wanted. But he was hungry, thirsty for her.

Wrapping an arm around her back, he used his body as momentum, rolling her onto her back. Her legs cup his body, making way for him. She wanted him to be cruel and kind, she wanted him to walk the fine line of merciless only to grant her sympathy when he chose.

Gabriel held her wiggling hips in place with his own, one hand securing itself around her wrists holding them above her head.

 _She's not like the others,_ he reminds himself. She's not some sleazy dive bar hook up he'll forget later. She's not some floozy at an overstuffed cocktail party. She's Michael Burnham; better than any woman before her.

Gabriel fears if he loses his cool now and alternates back to gently making love to her it will cause her to bolt. She's wants him harder and faster than before. He knows this. He's willing to give it to her. He fights the urge to stroke her cheek and instead comes close to her face, pressing himself inside of her urgently.

He feels the natural resistance her body gives him but both he and she fight it, moving forward and claiming her little by little.

 _Fuck, she's perfect,_ he thinks in a daze. He raises her legs so her feet are crossed over one another at his lower back, locked in place. Just like their eyes.

Michael draws him in until he must inevitably retreat. Then he falls into her again and again, deeper, harder and raging like the storm outside.

 _ **Yes**_ _... this is it,_ she thinks in a frenzy and he's thinking the same thing.

To Him she's redemption, clemency, anointment, salvation and damnation. She's the fair maiden sworn to another, he the black knight watching from afar as she sings her song of old woe; he'd take punishment, hell and sanction for her.

To Her he's calamity, purple rain, misadventure, a foolish tryst that will not end in the glow of the sun but the darkness of night that will eventually overcome them both.

It's in this realization of two becoming one that they know they don't care. They let the chips fall as they may, the garrisons have fallen, the war doesn't matter just the battle of bodies creating a tendril of bliss that they only share with one another.

This is their moment, their time, damn anyone else. To hell with Sarek and that son of a bitch Ash; he is hers and she is his. They have no name, no title, nothing but each other.

It's madness and it hurts so much inside her heart she cries, holding herself to him, not wanting it to end.

Is this what the ancients wrote about? Had they felt this way even then?

"I..." he stops himself from whatever it was he was going to say, Michael knows he wouldn't have fully meant it anyhow. It wasn't possible. That was too much of a cliche even for her.

Even though Michael knew that if he had said it, she would've said it back. And what frightened her was that it wouldn't have been a lie.

Afterward Michael is left satisfied and yet she still cries, she doesn't know why. He knows. He understands. He holds her, their bodies slick with sweat, the smell of sex heavy in the air. The night drags into the early morning hours.

Gabriel holds her until she has fallen back asleep. He doesn't shower a second time. He wants her on him, under his nails and even keeps the taste of her in his mouth. He's punishing himself, he knows. But he deserves it. Whatever she wanted from him he let her have it, hurting himself in the process even though he had the power to put a stop it.

But he had not wanted to stop it. Not when she had a soul that yearned to be loved even if she couldn't verbalize it. Even if she couldn't put a name to it. She had a heart that was capable of so much love and she had been hurt and betrayed so many times and yet she _still_ loved.

Gabriel didn't think he was worth it. He never did with anyone that had mattered to him.

Holding her close, he felt her breathing against his chest.

"I know you're asleep and this is ridiculous," he whispers, so quietly he knows she won't wake from it. "But I've never felt this way before. I think in the short time we've known each other I just let go and... shit, I don't know. I think I fell for you back there in that hipster coffee shop. I don't know how this is gonna end and you can't hear what I'm saying but I hope you know..." he stops and sighs.

He feels like an idiot. He should make her comfortable and get out of here before it's- what? Too late? It's too late for too late. Too late was when he asked her for coffee, when he agreed to come here. Too late was a hundred kisses ago and all that mattered was, what now?

Gabriel can't find it in himself to leave. So he stays. He holds her, kisses her when she wakes and lets her have whatever she'd like from him. Whether it's more kisses, more fucking, more laughter or more tears.

They're in it now. Because it's too late for anything else.


End file.
